


To Hold a Reputation

by Amethyst_Dawn



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Clones, Coping, Drug Withdrawal, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loss of Identity, Physical Abuse, Post-Episode: s04e10 Carnage of Krell, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22956772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethyst_Dawn/pseuds/Amethyst_Dawn
Summary: They all fight and fight proudly but what's the endgame? What type of democracy are they fighting for and what happens to them after? Will justice be their reality? A collection of Clone oneshots.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CT-27-5555 | Fives | ARC-5555 & CT-6116 | Kix, CT-27-5555 | Fives | ARC-5555 & CT-7567 | Rex, CT-5597 | Jesse & CT-6116 | Kix
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	1. When Ghosts Fade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raemanzu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raemanzu/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fives copes with the death of his brother and best friend, Echo.

They were friends because everyone else was gone. An uncanny relationship which was now just an echo left behind to taunt him. If he closed his eyes he could see him, he could just about brush his finger tips on what used to be. It was so far gone.

At this point life was just motion. _It'll pass. It'll be fine._ It hurt to watch the gathering of the blue pained armor knowing he wouldn't exit the crowd looking for him. He'd never see Rex's blue handprint jumping as he walked with a mock professional gait. It'll pass and it'd be no different than the dozens of other brothers that are martyred daily. Did he want that?

The reflection in the mirror was neutral and unwavering. It was Fives' reflection, and Rex's, and Cutup's and Droidbait's and Hevy's... and Echo's... Echo's... Echo's... It'd begun as a joke and now it was reality. He was just an echo now. A distant echo...

Fives splashed water on his face and watched silently as the droplets rolled down. His goatee, which was uneven and blending in with new growth, plastered itself to his face and he ran one gloved hand over it. He stretched his face into a smile he tried to make convincing. It was pained and obviously forced. He tried again. _It'll be fine._ His eyes were dull and unfocused as he smiled again.

He'd never see Echo smile again...

He wondered if he was happy where he was. Did a Clone get to have happiness after they died fighting? Echo had died preserving the success of a single mission. He was gone. The blast itself would've blown him to bits and if it hadn't he would've died from any occurring wounds. And Fives wasn't by his side.

The smile he unnaturally held dropped back to sullen and shut his eyes, refusing the building heat. _It'll be fine._ Would it though? Would it just pass? Day after day more and more soldiers die in the name of the Republic. The best of the get a monument at the GAR but Echo didn't. Fives had nothing to remember him by. Why hadn't he picked up the charred helmet? Had he been scared? What if Echo's head had still been in it?

"It'll be fine." His voice was rough with disuse and his throat tight. His tone was unconvincing at best. "He's happy now. His nightmares are over..."

Did nightmares subside when death occurred or did they become a reality? It was only a matter of time before he joined his brother and found out. It'd be so easy to let go once that time came. He wondered if it'd be easier to die by enemies or choose his own time. How easy would it be to lose all worry by choice and fall back taking a willful last breath.

"Fives?"

_It'll be fine. He isn't real._ Fives shut his eyes against the waking nightmare.

Hands shook him and grabbed his trembling arm. "Fives, what are you doing?" That was Rex's demanding voice, not Echo's.

Fives took a breath before opening his eyes and realizing that Rex's voice was slightly panicked and then realizing why. His reflection held one of his DC-15s half-way to his temple. He released his grip on the handle and it clattered to the floor and he stepped back in horror.

"I wasn't... I wouldn't--" He stammered uselessly.

He felt like dropping into a nonexistent void. He'd never take his own life purposely. He watched as the Captain bent down and picked up Fives' discarded weapon. Fives took the other one out his holster and tossed it to Rex as well. Rex watched him carefully and cautiously as if he'd dart and jump into space.

Fives felt his calm demeanor crumbling. Of all of his brothers, why did Rex walk in? Rex took a tentative step towards him and Fives stepped back instinctively, shaking his head. 

"No. No. I'm... I'm fine." His gaze darted across the plain floor. "Just tired."

"No you're not." Rex's voice was not dissimilar to Kix's when he was trying to calm a patient with a head injury, it angered him unwarranted.

"I just need sleep." He muttered. 

"You probably do." Rex was slowly getting closer. "Come on. I'll take you to the Med Bay. Kix'll get you something to help you sleep."

"I'm not sick!" Fives bit his lip to stop himself from yelling and lowers his voice. "I don't need help _sleeping_."

That was a lie but his lack of sleep derived from a bigger problem.

"I'll... I'll be okay."

Rex curled an armored arm around Fives' armored torso. They were wearing armor so that they could go out and fight in the next campaign they were headed for. The next campaign that promised death and pain and for what? Another successful mission that may or may not have an impact on their win or loss of this war.

Fives walked hesitantly with Rex out of the refresher and to the Med Bay. Rex alerted Kix as they made their way towards him. He was available when they walked in and Fives complied Rex's unspoken hope that he'd sit down.

Kix seemed to realize their grave expressions and didn't speak as he plied Fives' armor off his blacks, starting with his pauldron and Kamas. He remembered when he and Echo would walk around in the three barracks proudly with only their Kamas and pauldrons on over their blacks. It was their significance that those items showed that got Echo killed. Dammed creativity. 

"Have you slept recently?"

Fives looked around and realized Rex was no longer present. His presence had soothed him he realized even if he felt angry. "Where's Rex?"

"General called him in." Kix said and then repeated his question.

Fives had a moment of panic, what if he told? He crushed the thought down, it's probably be for the best anyways. Can't have a defect clone walking around.

"Will he... will he be back?"

"Knowing him, probably. Have you slept well recently?" He persisted.

He had slept recently just not very well. It was the sound of his brothers' snores that kept him up, the knowledge that Echo's weren't a part of them. It was the fact that he wasn't going to see him when he inevitably stumbled out of the barracks in the mornings. Why sleep soundly when there wasn't anything to look forward to? But wasn't there? There was millions of other brothers waiting for him to befriend. Hundreds within walking distance of where he stood but what was stopping him? What was stopping him from filling that vacant space beside him?

"No." His voice came out hoarse with unsung tears. He inhaled sharply and shut his eyes against his tears. Kix placed a hand on his back which just made it worst. "I'm going to go back to my barracks now."

Kix put a hand on his leg to stop him from standing up. "You wanna talk about it?"

Talking want good, talking made it hurt more. Echo liked to talk through things, he liked to create and share his thoughts. Fives shook his head.

"Here." Kix held out a hypo for him, "It'll help you sleep."

"I don't want to sleep."

"Why?"

Did it matter? "Because..." He took a deep breath. It'll help to say it aloud. "Because he's always there. He's there as if to remind me that I couldn't save him. That he was dead for... for what?"

"What do you mean?"

"Echo's--" his voice cracked in his name. "His death. How much of an impact did if have? How pointless was it!?"

"It wasn't pointless." Kix moved to sit next to him, "He saved lives right?"

"But does it have any impact on the war as a whole? What if we lose this thing and then his death was for nothing at all because the Separatists are going to destroy everything anyways." Fives' breathing became irregular as he started at the hypo in Kix's hand. Had he really been reduced to that overt the death of a fellow trooper? Jus voice lowered as he continued "He want just any trooper. He was my friend, my best friend. He was my brother. How many brothers will we lose before this war finishes?"

Kix's armored shoulder rested on Fives' lightly, naturally the position reminded him of Echo when they used to relish the small moments if silence they could capture.

"It's not pointless even of we don't win this. Sometimes I feel like I'm sending injured brothers off to fight only for them to injure the injury. And maybe it is like that but it's for a good cause. At least we're fighting for something in the first place, that makes it mean something." Kix's voice was light add if trying to hypnotize him. "Are you going to take the hypo?"

Fives closed the syringe in his hand and stood up, catching a glimpse of the aurebesh letters on his head. _A good droid is a dead one._ Just the slightest bit off. _A good soldier was a dead one._ He found dark humor in his variation and breathed a laugh at his own expense.

"Thanks Kix." It did help to talk but why was it easier to speak to Kix than Rex? 

Kix stood, "Of course. It's okay to grieve Fives... I'll bring your armor down. Wakeup is 0620." Kix reminded.

Fives walled into the mostly empty hallway. Rex was standing out there, pacing as if deciding something important.

Fives looked at him expectantly, a small reoccurrence of panic resurfacing. "Did you tell the general?"

"No." Rex looked sorry, "I thought about it but I didn't. You're a good soldier and some of us need time to get it together."

"Should've told him." Fives said truthfully.

"No. I shouldn't have." Rex said defiantly. He held out Fives' confiscated 15s. "I trust you won't do anything to stupid."

Fives hesitated a moment before taking then reluctantly, "I want going to do anything. I swear."

Rex put a hand on Fives' shoulder reassuringly, "You wouldn't ever do that intentionally. I know that."

Fives nodded and leaned ever so slightly towards Rex's hospitality before turning away abruptly and walking to his barracks.

He put his 15s in his locker and secured out before injecting himself with the hypo. He had been reduced to this. He threw away the canister and laid on his back, facing the ceiling. He and Echo used to lay side-by-side facing the sky when camping during campaigns. The memory gave him a smile instead of sorrow. He was telling himself right, it would pass and it'll leave happy memories in its place and roost memories will help him keep going.

Rex was right, he wasn't okay but he will be. He wouldn't take his own life over this, what a shame to Echo that'd be. Fives just hoped that the war didn't take to much of a toll on him, he couldn't risk that. He couldn't risk becoming crazy enough to take his own life. He was a valuable asset to the Republic abs a good soldier, they didn't come cheap and they were already running low. He'd overcome this in good time. 

The taunting feel of what used to be was more hopeful now and the numbness eased. Echo's dreadful nonexistent want so dreadful anymore and it'd continue to ease as such.

The hypo effects were becoming evident as his eyelids drooped. He hoped out wears off by tomorrow at 0620 and with it the dread of not seeing Echo. Yet as he fell asleep he thought about Rex's words. Intentionally, he had said that he wouldn't take his life intentionally. Had he noticed mental deterioration from Fives or was that coincidental? He couldn't think about that now. He'd be just fine after a good rest. 


	2. Civil Corruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While exploring Coruscant on leave Cody runs into a group of juvenile pedestrians.

Coruscant's streets weren't dissimilar to the barracks and hangars aboard the Negotiator. It was loud and bustling with energy and different agendas. It was somewhat comforting as he walked aimlessly through the midst of the crowd. 

Cody held his helmet under his arm and was dressed in full armor. It felt natural now unlike how it did the first time he put it on. The way it allowed only so much movement was familiar and comfortable. General Kenobi often said he'd never be able to get used to such restrictive armor. Maybe it was the Clone lifestyle that started way back before they were born. They grew in cramped tubes and slept in enclosed, tight beds and trained in restricting armor. It was lifestyle. 

Some of the pedestrians nodded at him and then some turned a indifferent side-eye. He wondered briefly what it was like to live a lifestyle like theirs', it was something he did rarely knowing it won't come as long as the war continued and maybe even after. Clones were viewed as property with a specific set of restrictions allowing them only to fight and protect the people. They say that 79s is a tribute to them and their service but truly it's a segregation tactic. Why did only droids work there?...

Cody shook the negative thoughts out his head as he inhaled something sweet. It was coming from a small pink shop on the end of the street. A long line of shifting forms trailed out of the bakery, they were all waiting their turn in getting to whatever the sweet smell was. Cody smiled as he promised himself that he would come back hate after the war when he got his own currency.

The inside of his forearm guard was scratched nearly beyond comprehension by one not accustomed to his system. He picked up a sharp rock and began scratching the white paint, directly under the words, _See the entire Jedi Temple_. He smirked contentedly as he finished scratching _Bakery_ into the paint and discarded the rock.

He could only go so far. He was scheduled back for 1300, it was 1155 at the moment with every second ticking the time down.

"Why don't you stop gawking and beg for some grub? I'm sure they'd tax it on the Republic. You broke bugslut would be guilt free." Cody ignored the rude jeer and continued walking as if he didn't hear it. "Can't here me? I'll get you an enhancer. Tax that on the Republic too."

Cody put his helmet in his head, it might've been a protective maneuver on his part, it did give him a sense of security though. They'll always find a reason to belittle them, it was their way of feeling bigger. General Kenobi had said most uncivilized people were cowards and were more talk than anything.

"Little loth-cat hiding behind his tail."

Cody stomach dipped add he realized the voice was more than one and they were coming from around him at different distances. He was being jumped. He pressed his comm link in an attempt to scare them away, they wouldn't mess with him if he was speaking with someone.

No one answered their comms, Cody was on his own. As if the other people around could sense the coming disruption they turned away and busied themselves with various nonexistent tasks. They wouldn't help him, it was probably a mercy on their part.

Cody continued waking, hoping his gait wasn't faltering. He had a moment of wonder of if Rex ever been in this situation. How'd he handle it?

He could see them. Four from what he counted, four people be could not defend himself against. Civvies could not be touched in violence by clones even in self-defence or risk court-martial or worst, execution.

Cody was beginning to curl in on himself mentally. They were all no older than eighteen maybe, eighteen in regular years. Cody turned the other way and tried to casually walk away. They were closing in. He couldn't help but feel trapped like a cornered, defenseless animal, technically he was.

"You think you're armor means something? You think your significant?" The new voice was close, almost on his covered neck. "Maybe if you stare hard enough someone will _pity_."

Cody grunted as hands grabbed his helmet with the last emphasized word. His body twisted harshly as the helmet came off his head. He was facing a big-eyed boy with soft features that didn't match the force he had just exerted. _They're just kids. Cruel kids, but kids all the same_. He didn't keep his eyes on the boy to avoid an aura of hostility instead he watched as his helmet fell to the ground and rolled through the dust, coating itself in a thin layer of brown.

"Not going to defend yourself?" One of the other children whined. 

Cody steeled himself, he wouldn't take the bait.

"Of course he isn't. He hides behind the Republic as insurance to his leeching. Him and his _brothers_."

The kid in front of him bated his teeth mockingly and rubbed his hands together, "This should be fun."

"Excuse me." Cody said lightly. "I have a battalion to command in a few hours."

Cody's breath hitched as a solid fist rammed into his plastoid-covered stomach. The kid pulled his hand close to his chest as the armor resisted against his fiat and Cody stumbled back unsteadily. Cody tried to dart around the boy without touching him but one of his group grabbed him by the underarms and the other two began picking his armor off the blacks that supported them.

"You think you're special because you command a battalion?" The lead snorted. 

Cody was all out of moves now. Every way to get out of this situation would be considered hostile and how stupid would it be to be removed from the army because he couldn't take a beating from some kids.

The second hit came from the same kid. It rattled his rib cage and sent fire up his throat with a hint of the sour taste of blood. Effective hits for a skinny kid. Cody tried to be optimistic in that event still he couldn't help but seethe at the utter ungratefulness those children had. Cody could hardly count the number of times he protected Coruscant's front from enemies, likely saving these children, what blatant rudeness.

"Look at this." One of the kids laughed. Cody looked up to see him peering at his arm guard with his list scratched in it. " _Go to a bar other than 79s. Find a friend that isn't a clone._ " The kid read his list. 

There were quite a few bullets on the list, Kenobi said not nearly enough for a potential bucket list. Cody didn't spend much time thinking about after the war, he couldn't do that to himself, but when he did it went on the guard. He laughed to himself at how his denial of life after the war could become reality here and now if he got beat to death by these kids. Surely they weren't that cruel. 

"Cute. Sounds like a 10 year old." The kid in front of him mused.

Cody was just 11 by now. He wondered if under all the training, experience and increased aging he was really just a hopeful kid. Maybe all of them were. 

Cody turned his head to the side as he heard the familiar sound of his DC-15A sliding out of the holster. One of the kids held it out in front of them as if fascinated. Suddenly Cody had a flash of every unnamed, enemy's life that weapon had taken. He took a deep breath to keep himself from panicking. Why was he panicking? The kid could hurt himself. 

"Might not want to touch that." He said, his voice was surprisingly steady and even commanding. Nonetheless, he was sure the gathering of saliva and blood in his mouth was beginning to leak out. 

The warning was rewarded with a solid hit that connected squarely with his jaw. He tightened his muscles to ready himself for the pain. It was so dull. It was the constant war. Pain was normal for him.

"You could hurt yourself." He said, urgency creeping into his practiced tone. 

The kid was holding the business-end of the gun pointed in between his eyes. The fourth kid was standing across from him with her hand dangerously close to the trigger. It was scenarios like this that Cody never expected to be in or even thought about.

Cody exhaled an aching lung-full as the kid turned the blaster towards the ground to further inspect it.

Another hit, he wasn't sure where. The arms holding him had readjusted to lock under his arms and behind his head tightly. The positioning blocked proper air and blood flow to his head. His vision wasn't swimming yet but it was on the verge. His head was becoming light as it was starved of oxygen and he shifted himself in a survival attempt. He was sure he was hit again but immediately after the sensation his ears vibrated and rang. A light tap blocked his ear for a moment and he leaned away from the source. His 15A had been shot next to his ear, he was no medic but he was sure hearing would be null or at least limited in that ear for a time. 

Another hit - his right side? Was it his imagination or were they letting up? No one was doing anything against them. How long would he be disabled from battle because of these wounds? Why did the worst things happen off the field? Had he ever been hurt this bad against enemies? He laughed truly this time, it wasn't funny, the worst of his enemies were those he protected and as a good and loyal soldier he'd continue to protect them.

"What's funny?" The voice was distant as if a low sound among the crashing waters of Kamino.

Cody took in a restorative breath as his position shifted enough to allow air. He almost went through with a series of evasive attacks to clear himself of danger but restrained himself. Restraint was always hard, General Kenobi often said restraint was the hardest and most vigorous teaching if the Jedi because poor restraint got people hurt. 

"Jac, Sar. That's enough, you might kill him." The voice didn't seem so sympathetic as worried for legal reasons. As if politics would extend down here. About a hundred bystanders turned a blind-eye out of self-interest. 

Cody slumped half-way to the ground before catching himself with aching arms. Retreating footsteps echoed down the street and then the bystanders started gathering, it wasn't much and for that Cody was grateful. _Don't come near if you didn't before cowards._ He snatched up the pieces of his armor with renewed anger. He had held it back as long as necessary. No one touched him as he weaved around them and rushed away. 

When he had walked his anger off he allowed himself rest. The pain from the hits had become evident as he slowed and folded himself in the corner of the street. Per usual everyone stepped around him with a second glance as he put his armor back on. His blacks stuck to his skin with cold sweat and his hair laid flat with the water weight. After a few moments he ran his fingers through the short and wet strands and relaxed himself.

He held his arm guard in his hands and looked at the list solemnly. Maybe this list _was_ a lost cause. Even if he was granted a life like any normal person he'd never be an equal, it'd always be Clone and human - clone and Jedi which was so much worst. Was this insecurity? If so, why? Why was he, a battle hardened clone commander - a soldier - so fragile? Was this even fragility or rebound tactics and self-preservation. Maybe it was unknowingly soothing to be insecure or have rogue negative thoughts. 

Cody replaced the arm guard and attached his slightly dirty comm link to it. He stared at his helmet, the goldenrod paint was worn down and scratched with use. It was a silent symbol of authority and protection, it signified protection more than he knew, that was why he had immediately put it on in the face of danger. He placed it on his head and sighed into the familiar tightness of the padding. He checked his 15A for damage before reseting the safety and setting it back in the holster. He checked the time. 

_1206._ It had only taken 10 minutes for his anger to grow so much? _How disappointed Kenobi would be._

Cody walked calmly through the streets and calmed even further as the GAR came into sight. Only a few hours and he'd be back in his comfort zone, on the war front.

"Commander." A trooper out of armor nodded at him, a Cody wasn't sure but he could've sworn he saw a drunk stagger on his step. Still he was respectful. It was different, Cody knew, all of them were in this together, aligned by their resounding loyalty and the stress, insecurities and everything else that came with.

"Codes!" One of his troopers, Wooley, ran up to him then straightened as he came to a stop, "Commander. General Kenobi had been requesting your presence for the last five minutes, sir."

Cody patted Wooley on the shoulder, ignoring the painful resistance his sore arm gave to the small movement. "Get the Ghost Company ready for deployment. We're out at exactly 1330."

Wooley nodded and ran back to the barracks, a good soldier that would see a lot before his time came, hopefully.

Kenobi waited outside his barracks for him. He seemed to be distant but returned as Cody approached.

"I don't mean to interrupt your vacation but apparently we are needed earlier on Ryloth, shouldn't be too long." Kenobi informed.

Cody nodded, his mind elsewhere. 

"What happened?" Jedi...

"Everything's fine." Cody straightened out and removed his helmet, it was no longer serving the purpose of needed protection. "Just a bit distracted. It won't be a problem.

"What happened to your lip?"

Cody ran his tongue over his lip and bit down as he recognized the sting of a fresh cut. "A little trip up. Nothing serious."

His general wasn't one to invade unwanted and didn't push on and he was grateful for that. Cody pressed his comm and connected with Boil's frequency as he walked away. 

"Commander." Came Boil's voice, it still held that slightly saddened tone that it had held since Waxer died during the Umbara Campaign, Cody realized it might never go away even when he was happy.

"Ghost Company needs to be ready to set out earlier than what I told Wooley."

"On it commander." Came Boil's sure reply, he'd have it done. Loyalty and efficiency is what made an army.

Cody dropped his arm to his side and stepped into his unlit barracks. It was empty aside from one trooper that was collecting his armor. He sunk onto his mattress and set his helmet to the side. Was he shaking? There was nothing for his body to be shaking about. Cody clasped his hands together to ease the shaking. He dropped his head down to rest on his clasped hand as he tried in vain to steady himself.

He heard the trooper walk out and he allowed himself to ease to the bed. He was still shaking, why was he still shaking? It wasn't the attack, that was nothing. It was everything. Nearly everyday he risked his life, a life, he supposed, shouldn't have been his. Like he'd stolen the place of another person and his millions of cloned brothers had done the same. But wasn't there enough space for a few extra? 

The kid had made more than one comment on his use of the Republic's tax. Maybe the Clone army was causing misfortune to others financially, but that was just more reason to fight to end this war faster. That was his end goal, all of their end goals yet it didn't seem to be reality, or maybe it was a distant realty he couldn't see because of what he'd been trained for and what he experienced. And what would be the outcome? A "peaceful" society full of clone-abusers?

Cody scoffed at his irrational imagine. A few rash kids didn't shape the entire population. Suddenly he realized, he didn't see a happy, "normal" life for himself. He was a born soldier, what did he do when there was no one to fight? Was it really that terrifying? This was ridiculous. 

A chime from his comm distracted him from his self-withering thoughts. 

"General." Cody answered.

"Anything important going on with you?"

Cody turned as he heard Kenobi's voice doubled, one mechanically filtered and one present. Cody straightened as his general approached and prepared himself for questioning. How long had it been since he left him? Surely not more than a few minutes or even less.

"I thought we had a platoon to be dispatching." Kenobi said lightly.

"I'm doing that sir." Cody assured. 

"Oh, I'm sure you are." Kenobi peered at him through the dim light. "You said you tripped?"

Why was he so interested in a small cut. Maybe it was a Jedi thing and he could sense something was wrong. "I did. I didn't."

"Was that supposed to be an answer commander?" Kenobi's voice held ever so soft concern, had Cody boy been working with him so long he would have missed it. 

"Maybe," After a few moments if silent hesitation he continued, "I've just been a bit troubled."

"You weren't when you went off to _sight-see_. What changed?"

He surely did sight-see some fists. "A little trouble with civilians. It won't be a problem sir." Cody balanced his helmet on his knee and idly traced a finger across the goldenrod visor.

"That's where you got that cut?" He already knew the answer to that.

"They didn't hurt me to bad. I'm fit for the campaign." Cody said quickly, getting left behind would probably give him too much time with his own thoughts. On the battlefield, commanding a battalion, it was a getaway - a useful distraction - that pushed his anxiety and stress back. "I can fight, Sir."

"I don't doubt that Cody." Kenobi put a hand on his shoulder plate. "Don't push yourself to hard."

And that was it, Kenobi walked out silently. That is what this was; another check-in to insure the 212th was functional physically and effectively. Can't win a war with defective soldiers. Cody had a brief moment of a day when Kenobi would send him back to Kamino for reconditioning without a second thought. _Only the best commander until you're not anymore._

He pushed his thoughts back into a small cramped space that usually disappeared with the presence of adrenaline. He knew it'd come rushing back painfully but until the end of his duties in the war they'd have to wait. The 7th Sky Corps needed a functional Marshal Commander.

When he arrived in the hangar the 212th attack battalion was nearly ready, the Ghost Company was geared and boarding _the Negotiator_. Cody caught Kenobi getting on board and he moved to follow him. 10 minutes later the Republic Command Ship was leaving the port it so rarely sat in. Cody relaxed as the familiar buzz of artifical gravity coursed through him. He was back in familiar territory - head of a battalion.

This was the present, this war was present. Everything future could wait until then even if it never came for him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to make this one have more layers of character conflict. The resolve is not very resolving but this is how I imagine a person who's seen war...
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it anyways.


	3. Honorable Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kix finds that his friend Jesse is spiraling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by sheApunk89.
> 
> *Mentions of suicide and referenced drug abuse

"He's gone." Kix retracted his hand from Queer's unmoving chest—he hadn't suffered.

Kix stepped back, taking on last look at the dotted, floral tattoo that decorated the trooper's left-side of his face. Kix had treated his wounds a total of twelve times during his run as a soldier, he had seen his now flush and calm face screwed with pain and tension as he worked on him without the aid of sedatives. He would never help him heal again. 

Another trooper, Gar, sat beside the bed that held the body of his friend. His hand was clasped in Queer's which had gone slack when his life had retired his body. Gar dropped the dead-weight hand and left his brother's side to leave the med bay. Kix let him go and sunk into the chair Gar had been sitting in, discarding the syringe he had used to administer the life-taking serum. How merciful did he think himself for taking a life embedded with a sedative to avoid discomfort. Killing euphorically was still killing. He was killing his brothers for the sake of the army—and to put them out of their misery.

Kix had watched in holovids that the doctor would list the date, time and day that a patient died, it was as a comfort to the family and a listing so that their death can be recorded and stored. The clones didn't get that. They wouldn't get that. They were bred, they fought and died and after that there was nothing except their brothers to remember them by and then they disappeared with them. And what of them after the war? They would not be thought of as war heroes, they'd just be a slave army to the Republic to be treated however the Republic sees fit.

He closed his brother's dead eyes and aligned his body into something more suitable. His armor had been fractured and mixed with his blood and flesh in a grotesque and mangled display. He watched the body for a moment as if he could breath life into it before he pulled the sheet to cover the dead trooper.

Kix passed Strap on his way out and waved a fleeting greeting. He couldn't wait up, the Torrent Company was being deployed in 30 standard minutes. _The Resolute_ was currently hovering in the fog of Felucia and ready for dispatching once General Skywalker gave the go-ahead.

Kix did a quick check over his pack and armor. Technically this should have been done already but Gar had insisted he'd be there to let Queer go. It had been a longer and more disappointing event than expected. Kix abandoned his detour to his barracks to grab rations and then head for the hangar. The Torrent Company was already on transport ships and were waiting in him. He grabbed ARC trooper Nub's outstretched hand and got into the transport. He realized with hesitation that he wasn't aware that the ARC was joining them in this. He had attended the debrief but it seemed to have escaped him.

Kix fastened the seal on his bucket as the transport doors sealed and they lifted out of the Resolute. The change from artifical gravity to natural was noticeable as they descended lower into the atmosphere. The doors reopened when they were still far above ground. Through the ever-thinning fog Kix could see the lined enemy droids that waited for them. The transport circled around and landed a few yards away from the Droid army.

Kix was second to last to exit the transport. He heaved his pack on his back and stepped into the florescent nature of Felucia. Rex lead the Torrent Company as they walked together towards the droid army. Kix could hear the collective breathing of his brothers as they walked—weapons drawn. It was multiple minutes before their captain put his hand up and they all came to a halt and then the firing began.

It was always this moment, the moment when they began getting fired at, that their mortality became evident. They were always aware that any of them could die out there—hell, they even joked about it—but being there in real time, it was different. It was a drop in their stomach, the fear of losing that one brother that always had your back or them losing you. It was always that split-second-moment when brothers fell beside you but you lifted your blaster and fought—knowing they were dead.

Kix dodged to the side as a string of blasters ripped at their ranks. His 15A felt like a block of durasteel in his hand. It weighed him down but he kept it level with his chest and sent precise shots, not quite as precise as the double fire that the Captain was shedding professionally but enough to take down a fair amount of B1s.

He shouldn't be up here. He was needed back where the most casualties were happening. The troopers up front with Rex were the most skilled, experienced and least-likely to get shot. As the ranks expanded backwards the experience depleted until they were shinys with barely any indication they had even touched their armor since being deployed from Kamino.

The first fallen trooper he came to was Harpy. His armor had fractured by his side and blood tangled with the white and blue shards. Kix eased him out of the way of the blaster fire and shrugged his medkit off his back. Harpy muttered a curse in pain as Kix eased him into a better position. Kix slipped his head out of his helmet and searched his face. His eyes weren't clouded or unfocused and he wasn't twitching. The injury wasn't fatal and not a bad as it looked but it needed to be cleaned and sealed.

Kix injected the brother with a painkiller and patted the sweat off his face before falling into a rhythm of removing armor pieces and cleaning the wound as he went. At one point Harpy seemed to be slipping but Kix drew him back with a quick snap of his fingers and refocused him through speech. 

"Talk to me Harpy."

Harpy's voice was clear and not drawn but it was full of pain, even with the painkiller. "Medics aren't any fun to talk with." He gasped, "Especially when they're working."

Kix pulled off his own helmet and made a quick show of displaying his shaved design, "Do I look like no fun?"

Harpy laughed painfully and Kix continued his work. "You can't pull that one every time someone calls you boring."

"Can. Will." Kix said through gritted teeth as he eased the last piece of armor out of Harpy's skin. "It works though doesn't it?"

"A little." Harpy's eyes drifted, he was losing too much blood.

"Talk to me about something..." Kix fished for a topic, "...your flute."

Harpy's music-note tattoo running across the side of his face crinkled as he thought about his passion. "I think I gave it to Shade. He kept being dull."

"Okay. That's nice." Kix tried to keep the urgency out of his voice as he thought of the brother he let go not thirty minute before. "What else. Got a new tattoo?"

"Not any you don't know about." Harpy chuckled. "You've practically seen me naked."

Kix practically seen all his brothers naked, that was just something that came with being a medic.

"There." Kix breathed.

The wound was sealed with a bactapatch and the blood cleaned from the area. Kix had removed all the armor from his torso and had partially cut away half of Harpy's blacks too. He'd be fine. Kix sat back and smiled at the trooper whose head was dipping.

"You can rest. Stay here and out of danger. We'll come back for you. Stay alive. That's an order."

Kix gave him another painkiller and moved on. He helped another trooper, Oz. And another and maybe a half dozen more. Scar, Tik, Hazard, Locke, Evo, 833 and Flix. Half of them were shinys, barely fit into their armor. They all were just injured and were waiting for the end of this battle.

Kix joined Rex at the very front ranks. The lines of battle droids were broken through and divided. He had passed only five dead troopers as he advanced which meant that this battle was easy. He couldn't help but feel like they were advancing directly into a visible trap.

As a medic he knew that feeling was chronic to a soldier, either they were winning or they were about to be bombed to the ends of space.

His hair stood up suddenly as a small device came sailing towards him. Before he even realized what it was be caught it and flung it back in the direction of its original trajectory. It exploded harmlessly at the half-way mark to the thinning droids.

Rex fell back to stand next to him and cover fired for the brothers in front of them. Kix followed suit.

"How many?" Rex asked over the din of the battle. 

"Thirteen. Eight non-fatal, five fatal."

"Are they gone?"

Kix swallowed and took two shots which run B2 down. "Yes."

Those five troopers would be missed, by some more than others.

Rex nodded tightly before moving up a few ranks. Kix heard his encouraging bellow, "Let's go boys! Clear it out for the 104th!"

Heavy fire erupted from their ranks and the last of the battle droids fell save one. Rex ran at it and tackled it to the ground just as it gained target lock. A quick double blast to its central cortex put it out of its usefulness and Rex stepped back, satisfied.

The quiet returned and followed by whoops of victory and finally the anticipated scrambling of brothers searching fit their counterparts. Kix went back to 833 who had the worst of the wounds as brothers grouped into twos or threes.

833's dose of painkiller had stopped giving and he was gasping in pain as the wounds tickling his stomach bled through the wrapping Kix had assembled. Kix pressed his hands on the trooper to ease him. 

"Calm down." He soothed, "It'll hurt less if you don't move so much."

"Don't scold me." 833 pouted, he was one of the younger shinys. His armor was unmarked and his appearance still at standard. "I'm to young to die right?"

"Technically we're to young to be military but..." Kix trailed off. "833?"

The trooper's eyes lolled back in his head and his otherwise slack face wore a pleasant smile. Kix applied pressure to his wounds and lifted him up slightly.

"833!" He said urgently. 

He was so young. He probably want even 9 yet, so young. If he died that would be one less clone experiencing a free life. That'd he one more dream snuffed out by the drag of war. 

"He just sleeps like that."

Kix looked at the Clone that sat next to 833 now and eased 833's body back down. "What?"

He shrugged, "833 sleeps like that, been doing it since we were cadets. Kind of feel like we should call him Doze. Like the drug because he sleeps like he's under."

Kix took his medkit off and then his bucket and injected 833 - potentially Doze - with a painkiller. "Doze is fitting." Kix said, his panic was short-lived and dissipated when he began working on 833 while speaking with... "What do they call you."

"Omarc. Mostly just Marc. One of my batch mates - pretty sure he's dead - named me that. I was always on mark with ever shot and he said Sureshot was to obvious so 'On Mark' then 833 shortened in to O-M-A-R-C."

"Is he your friend?"

Omarc's face dropped a little and he nodded and took sudden interest in his helmet's visor. Kix watched as he worked his jaw to speak but hesitated. Kix drew his attention back to 833 who was stirring and wrapped his new bandages over the bacta salve he had applied. Medic evac would be here to get him soon (if not tonight but by morning) and then Kix could relax. 

"Will he be fine?" It was a few minutes later, Kix almost forgot he was there. 

"He should be. Lost a lot of blood though." He was going to be straightforward. "Four blaster wounds and a burn." Kix listed.

"He needs an evac." Omarc sighed. 

Kix nodded in response and tucked the bandages. He noticed Omarc follow him as he moved on to Evo. He had fallen asleep but his eyes shifted under their closed lids. Kix moved the trooper's helmet from under his arm and checked the wound across his side. He shifted as Kix tightened the bandage then settled as Kix moved on.

"Do you ever wish you were a Jedi? Or just a normal person?"

Kix looked up from Harpy's wounds which he checked on tenderly. "Does any of us ever not go to sleep at least wondering what it'd be like?"

"Maybe we'd be free of our nightmares."

The infamous reoccurring nightmare that seemed built into every Fett clone like DNA. Kix shivered as the image of him firing at General Skywalker's back. He forced the image out of his mind and went back to checking in Harpy's wounds before replying.

"I'm sure we'd still have nightmares." He replied lightly. 

"Not like that though." Omarc insisted. 

Kix moved to the next trooper without replying and only realized Omarc had left him after he was done checking each brother who had been injured. Kix retired the rounds to Hypo who had been already tallying the dead and went to find Jesse.

He found the helmet displaying the Republic Cog without the tattoo counterpart or even the armor. He picked up the helmet and followed a shallow trail into the lush greenery, which was divided more into yellows and blues than just green. The various leaves left colorful streaks across his armor and some left gooey residue which oddly turned his stomach. 

"Jesse?" He called out. 

Faint shoe prints marked the soil under him and he followed then timidly. What was Jesse doing so far away from the battle? 

"Don't come any closer." The voice was weak and strained. 

"Jesse?" Kix stopped moving. When no reply came he took another step. "Jesse. It's Kix."

"Please go."

"What happened?" Kix could see pieces of Jesse's armor and half of his curled body, shaking slightly. "Are you okay?"

Jesse's answer came quick. "Yes."

Kix took another step towards his friend's direction cautiously. He unsealed his helmet and lifted it and his nose was met with the acidic smell that tied to bile. He hadn't much experience with illness that caused vomit but he dealt with vomiting enough—when brothers ate too much after coming back from a campaign, hangovers and very few times, stress. 

"You got sick? Why?" Kix's eyes searched for illness in his brother's body, he found none aside from his body's shaking. 

They were genetically enhanced to prevent sickness. This was unusual.

Jesse began rocking as if to substitute for his shaking. "I don't know." He muttered. 

Kix walked closer and crouched next to Jesse. The smell of the vomit glistening a few feet away burned Kix's nose.

"What happened?" He asked again, searching his face. "Are you sick?"

Jesse shook his head but didn't say anything else so Kix got up and began gathering Jesse's armor.

"Come on. They'll be looking for us."

As if on cue the comm on Jesse's discarded wrist guard chimed and a voice came through.

_"Jesse answer your damn comm!"_ Came Rex's exasperated, commanding growl.

Kix looked at Jesse as in picked up the guard. "How many times has he commed you?"

Jesse shrugged and Kix answered the comm. "Yes Captain?" Thank the force for cloned voices.

_"Where are you?"_

"Uh..." Kix searched for a Jesse-like answer and resigned to saying, "Got last. Kix found me, we're headed back."

_"And why weren't you answering your comm trooper?"_ Rex asked then added, as if to solidify a point, _"During an active campaign. You should've at least informed me!"_

"Ummmmm... it got mud stuck in it and I had shut it off to clean it." Kix said, and fir good measure he said, "Hurry up Kix!"

Rex gave a defeated sigh through the link, _"Hurry back we're setting up camp."_ The link disconnected and Kix turned back to Jesse. 

The shaking had subsided and Jesse was getting to his feet. Kix thought about asking what happened again but they had to get moving. Jesse put his armor back on—taking his helmet as Kix offered it—and they began the walk back in stark silence.

Rex waited for them at the camp. It seemed everyone had retired to their tents except Rex. Were those developing eye-bags he squinted through? Kix tried to turn off his medical-sense as he approached their captain, he had to seem good for know, for Jesse, he could talk to Rex about his lack of sleep later. Besides, it could be nothing. A trick of the shadows. 

"Jesse, Kix. You're both in tent 12 with Streak, Tally and Honor."

Kix nodded at the Captain and watched Jesse slyly for a reaction. He didn't seem to flinch or show that anything was wrong. It was worrying. He was hiding it so well. If he hadn't stumbled on him earlier he wouldn't even had known anything was wrong—he _hadn't_ known anything was wrong. How long had Jesse been sitting in this?

Rex gave them a dismissive look and they walked past him. 

"Try and sleep Captain." From a medic that should be taken as a warning. 

Rex gave him a seemingly serious nod and the two of the moved to tent 12. 

Streak and Honor were still up chatting over Tally's sleeping form with another trooper, Kix recognized him as Hint from the small question mark tattooed between his eyes. Their taking ceased as they came in but picked back up when Jesse and Kix didn't acknowledge them but moved to the far corner of the tent.

Kix watched Jesse closely as they picked the pieces of their armor off silently. 

"You wanna talk about it?" Kix asked. Jesse's face twitched at his question and he stated silent. "I'm asking as a friend not the medic."

"What's the difference?" Jesse growled. 

"That isn't the point." Kix gave the three other awake troopers a side-glanceand lowered his voice. "It'll help."

When Jesse stayed quite and stacked then re-stacked his armor Kix continued. "I've seen this plenty of times. I might be able to help. It happens and it's not a bad thing necessarily." He tried the reassurance route. 

Jesse stayed silent and slid his armor to the side.

"It'll only get worse Jesse."

"You don't think I know that?" His voice was suddenly harsh with worry.

Hint had paused at the exit where he was just leaving and the other two glanced at them before turning away. Tally, however, didn't even stir. Kix envied his sleeping ability. He was likely a few months away from not sleeping. He'd only been here a year which was when most of the troopers started getting nightmares worst than the Jedi-shootings.

Kix turned back to Jesse who armed to be trying to fold himself into the soft ground. Kix sat next to his brother, their shoulders just touching. Kix realized his shaking had returned and that it must be worst than he originally thought. 

Kix's voice was light when he finally spoke again, careful not to trigger him. "How long has this been going on?"

The only answer was a shift in Jesse's body weight. Kix didn't push on but listened for signs of Jesse's... panic? This was different than just panic. Jesse's breaths were deliberately even and steady; controlled, practiced. He'd mastered the art of hiding it.

Streak and Honor's breathing became parallel with Tally's by the time Jesse moved. He curled into his sleeping bag and Kix moved to his. He slept with his chest to the top of the tent and his eyes wandered restlessly. He could hear Jesse fall into an almost-sleep that most of them indulged in but he stayed awake. 

"You can't keep doing this Jesse." He muttered into the silence.

"I know." Came Jesse's hushed and surprising reply. Kix could've sworn he was asleep. "I know."

***

Kix knew he was gone before he'd even saw his sleeping bag. His stack of armor still day in the area it had the night before so he didn't go far. He wouldn't wander around on the battlefield without armor, he wasn't crazy. 

"Said he's going for a run." Talky said from where he lay sketching in some smuggled flimsy.

Kix raised an eyebrow. "Without his armor."

Tally shrugged. "Maybe he's not going far."

Kix put his armor on, leaving his helmet and left the tent. Jesse wasn't in sight as he left the tent. Brothers milled about getting ready for the 104th's arrival and entrance into the new territory.

"You've got shift at 0900." Tonic called from where he stood over a sleeping 833.

Kix was glad to see the Omarc had re-assumed his place by the shinys side. Kix gave a thumbs-up to Tonic show he heard and moved on after waving at Omarc. It helped the younger brothers to be acknowledged by the older ones. It gave them a sense of security and usefulness, at least it had Kix when he had first been shipped off Kamino.

It was surprisingly easy to find Jesse. Kix assumed he would've found somewhere to stay away from everyone but he was in one of the medical tents. Kix did not expect him to be there. Had he gotten hurt in the fighting yesterday? Kix found him hunched over with his head in his hands, his body shaking again, the tent was otherwise empty.

"Jesse?"

The shaking trooper whipped around quickly when Kix spoke, his eyes disoriented.

"It's Kix." He turned his head to show his tattoo under his slightly-grown hair. Jesse didn't answer but instead he turned back to his original position. "There shouldn't be a lot more fighting after the 104th fleet come in."

"I know." His voice was shaky and drawled.

"Are you okay?" Kix didn't want to impose himself too persistently.

When Jesse didn't answer Kix walked around to crouch in front of him. His body was still shaking, if not more violently than yesterday.

"Hey." Kix tried to get him to lift his face but he resisted and then he realized there were tear streaks on his face. "What's wrong?"

Jesse sniffed and shook his head though it may have been from his body's shaking. The shaking wasn't right, it was too violent, too noticeable.

"Jesse." Kix's voice was getting more insistent. "Look at me."

Kix gently forced his friend's head from his hands and studied his face. A shiver ran through his body as he noticed Jesse's clammy, sweaty skin and his unfocused eyes.

"No Jesse, no." He breathed. "It can't be that bad."

Jesse tried to resist Kix's hold. "What are you on?" Kix said, suddenly gruff. "What is it!"

The withdrawal symptoms so far were general from what Kix saw but he hunted for more as Jesse struggled to find words. If he was going through withdrawal symptoms now then he had to had taken it approximately 12 or more hours before.

"What did you take Jesse?" He repeated.

"H4b." Jesse mumbled.

H4b was a semisomnia drug which would explain the bags under his eyes—he wasn't getting sleep.

"How long? How long Jesse?"

Jesse's eyes focused on him for a moment and Kix watched as his pupils tightened in the light. "Not long." He muttered.

His eyes were glassy and he was only semi-responsive. He wasn't withdrawing, he was under.

"How much?" His voice lowered a little.

"I dunno." Jesse's eyes were drifting.

"Why?" Kix's breathing sounded a little like Jesse's, ragged and strained. It was hard watching anyone, especially a brother like this.

Jesse blew out an unsteady breath. "I can't... I can't sleep." A tear escaped his eyes and pooled between Kix's gloved thumb and forefinger where they rested on his blotched face. "I can't but I need to. I know... I... I know that."

He took H4b so that he'd rest but he didn't want to go into a deep enough sleep to dream. Kix sometimes wished he could stay in that state too. The dreams were what gave them the real nightmare of war. It was the materialization of their deepest underlying fear. Unspoken and avoided but it couldn't be avoided in sleep, it always came no matter what. Even so, not sleeping was dangerous eventually the body needs to go into a deep sleep for the mind to function correctly.

"That's..." Kix didn't finish, instead let go off Jesse's face.

Jesse looked up at him like a scolded child except it was so much worst. Tears escaped out of his eyes in a constant stream and his hands grabbed at the edge of them bed in an attempt to ease the shaking.

Kix picked up a datapad sitting to the side and opened up the storage records. He knew every drug used and which patients they were used for since the last stockage. H4b was missing four vials. Four. Four storage vials was enough for at least eight dosages. How had he not noticed?

Kix set the pad down and sat all the way down on the bottom of the tent. "I always thought I'd get to this before you Jesse." He said sadly.

"You're going to tell?" Jesse asked meekly.

Kix shuddered. Telling was the reasonable route but couldn't Jesse get help. He didn't need reconditioning, he needed help. He would get past this without losing his identity or dying. Right? Kix realized that he so desperately needed Jesse. Jesse was his best friend and the only trooper that he could sit with and feel like the entire war just drops away. "I don't know."

Jesse eased himself onto the bed slowly, probably to refrain from getting dizzy or developing a headache; it'll come from withdrawal anyways.

"Maybe you should." His voice was thick with drowsiness.

Kix lifted Jesse's head to try and get him to focus. "How much did you take Jesse?"

"Wha... hmm." He couldn't be seen here, Tonic would tell the Captain and Rex would likely task the General.

"Jess! How much did you take?" He needed to counteract it and he couldn't do it effectively without the original dosage. "Jesse!"

"Half..." His lids drooped over his eyes and his body relaxed oddly. 

Kix watched his form for a few moments. The H4b wasn't supposed to have such a vigorous effect. Sweat gathered steadily on Jesse's face as he slept and his breathing was still uneven. His eyes didn't move under his lids but his expression wasn't serene. His hands clawed at the sheets as if in pain, he wasn't dreaming.

"Kriff!" Kix spat angrily at himself. He'd ignorantly allowed his friend to overdose himself. He should have realized it long time ago. "Jesse?"

Kix swallowed and began to work in the man. He laid him on his back and watched his breathing until it became shallow. He grabbed a nearby med station kit and opened it. He infused Jesse with a bacta ampoule to assist with clean blood regeneration and an anti-toxic to flush his blood clean. 

There wasn't much more he could do at the moment. A brief memory of the day before flashed through his mind of Queer's dead body, a trooper dead by the serum he had administered. He would not be able to do that to Jesse if he got hurt because of his... addiction. He looked at the labeled vial that held that liquid formula before a quick image of Jesse's cold body caused him to turn away.

Jesse was not going to die or get reconditioned or continue to harm himself. Jesse wouldn't allow it.

"What happened to him?"

Tonic looked quizzically at Jesse whose symptoms had died down by was still sickly pale and shivering.

Kix looked for a quick reasonable answer. "Got sick. Just making sure he's good." It was close enough to the truth. Kix forced himself to chuckle, "Probably just got up too quickly earlier."

Tonic nodded then picked up the bactapatch which he had been coming for then walked out without a word of suspicion. Eventually someone would catch on if Jesse wasn't careful but Kix wouldn't let that happen, not if Jesse's identity or life was the price.

Kix sat back on the bed opposite to the one Jesse laid on then immediately stood back up as Jesse's body seized. Kix placed a hand on Jesse's chest and legs and pressed to hold him down as he continued to seize with a few second intervals. It went on for a few minutes and Kix found himself pressing into a state of emotionless motion. It was safe there and it was senseless there. It allowed him to keep a level head.

Kix kept his hands hovering over Jesse's body after it stopped. It was multiple minutes before he eased back into his own body but he kept his hands over Jesse. He was not allowed to die. Not after 3 years of fighting in this kriffing war, he was not allowed to die because of a karking overdose.

Jesse turned over in his sleep and his breathing became closer to regular and Kix finally sat back down. He checked the time. _0837_. He was due in 23 minutes. Jesse wouldn't pass this state in 23 minutes.

"Why did you do this Jesse? Why did I allow you to do this?"

As chief medic he was supposed to notice these things. He was supposed to _prevent_ these things. How had he let it past him? Surely he wasn't too busy to notice his own friend spiraling. He spent most of his free time with Jesse... but not recently...

Kix took a shuddering breath to try and calm himself and then fell back into his level-headed state. Jesse was just another trooper that would die eventually, isn't it a mercy to allow him to die by his own hand than by an enemy. Kix certainly thought about it before. 

He could not let one trooper crumble the integrity of the 501st, the rest of them needed a chief medic. 

But it's Jesse. Jesse who had dared to sneak into Kix's barracks after he had been moved to medical. It was Jesse who had practically pummeled him when he realized who he was when they were inducted into the 501st. He was not just any trooper.

He was though. Where he lacked Kamino had 100,000 more that didn't. Battle ready and ready to lay down their lives, that went away as experience increased, it was hard to just die after surviving so much already. 

"You're late Kix."

Tonic walked in with a datapad and handed it to him. It was a list of all the wounded troopers and their treatment. They were fine, evac would arrive with the 212th, late but still effective. It was the dead that jarred him. He had passed five dead troopers during the battle and the datapad listed thirteen. Who else had died in the span of time he was away and was it because he _had been_ away?

"You good brother?"

Brother. They used the word loosely now. They were all brothers by blood but Jesse, he was his brother, his brother in the closest form of the word. Jesse was his brother because he was there for the good and the bad. He was there when Kix turned around when an enemy was shot down in close proximity. Did he not owe Jesse his life? 

_So does the Republic owe us theirs?_

"Yes." He got up to walk away but his already-faltering-level-head facade shattered and he turned back to Jesse. He could feel Tonic contemplating this whole situation trying to make sense of it. He could just ask, but Kix wouldn't tell him. "Watch him please. Notify me if he so much as wakes up."

Tonic grinned. "Should I be worried?"

Kix didn't engage but walked away. Jesse will be fine, he'll be fine. He again assumed his level-headed-ness and walked towards the tent full of wounded. They had to be priority at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of using this one shot in a full story. I need a name for it though. Some ideas below but you guys can give me more. Thanks for reading. 
> 
> Treading Harsh Waters  
> Who We Are Now  
> Bound to Our Future  
> Defined Through Error  
> Brothers by Blood  
> Brothers in Arms


	4. Shots Have Been Fired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dogma goes in for reconditioning.
> 
> (Kind of short.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up a number for Dogma.

Even after firing in his own brothers he had still resisted taking a stand against Krell, even went the length of preventing his arrest after he had watched him slice down his brothers. He had willingly pointed a gun at his brothers to protect Krell, a traitor, even if he wasn't going to fire it. If it hadn't been for him maybe so many more wouldn't have died. 

If he had the chance to shoot that monster again he probably would do it, so was he kidding, he was Dogma and was called that for a reason. He had shot him in a moment of panic and guilt. He had stood up tall long enough to convince his captain of his false bravery but the facade crumbled as the gunship doors closed, cutting his vision from Rex's face.

_You were the biggest fool of them all Dogma._

He had single-handedly tied himself like a puppet to Krell without a second thought and had not for a second resisted the Besalisk's puppetry. For Rex Krell had to use mind-games but for Dogma it was purely his own doing, whatever he said he did. He had asked for an execution of men who had _helped_ the tide of the battle and without a question he had staged it. 

_I counted on blind loyalty like yours to bake my plan succeed._

Dogma was a name he was proud of until that moment. Now he realized, a battle cannot be won with textbook strategies, but that was what he time and time again attempted, keeping at least one copy of a reg manual in his possession at all times. 

_"CT-7819 is clear for entrance."_

His brothers in either side of him stepped forward without a word. Dogma could feel the tenseness in their muscles, never was it easy to take in the reality that a brother could be a "traitor". Dogma wasn't traitorous, he knew that, _Rex_ knew it. It didn't matter that he'd lose his identity because at least the threat was eliminated.

The chamber loomed before him, a white casing of ominous endangerment. He clasped his cuffed hands in front of him to stop the rattling of the cuffs from his shaking hands. He looked at the armored brothers beside him in a futile attempt at a reaction, something to show they _cared,_ even if they didn't know him. Neither of them showed any notice of his desperation from behind their helmets.

_I'm not alone, I'm going to come out and I'll still be me, I'll still be Dogma just restarted._ He breathed out a long breath and stepped into the chamber. Cold was the first sensation he experiences. He spun around, nearly tripping on his own feet, as the door closed behind him.

"CT-7819." Dogma turned away from the door to face an unfamiliar Kaminoan. She was quite wrinkled, probably near 80. She stood next to a simple restraining chair with her hands slightly extended, she didn't seem to mind the cold. "Please approach the chair and take a seat."

Dogma did as she said, cautiously. Why was he being cautious? Kamino was safe, this place was safe, it was supposed to help him. At least this way he won't remember Krell, or Rex, or any of the 501st, he wouldn't remember anything that made him hurt. The Kaminoan began lightly binding him to the chair. If he tried he couldn't even feel the restraints, he was comfortable.

"I'm Daa Edo. I'll be here during the duration of your reconditioning."

Dogma breathed out a visible breath, "Will... will I still be the same?" His voice was oddly strained.

"Yes but your violent tendencies will be removed along with the memories of what transpired on Umbara."

So he would remember Rex an 501st. Dogma nodded as if he was confident.

"Try and relax 7819. It'll only take a moment."

And then Dogma was falling, as he fell moments and behavior shed away. He calmly released the memory of Krell, killing his own brothers, Rex's sad displeasure when he had tried to betray them. It was bliss to release but he did try to hold on to a little pain to remind himself but even that sifted through his grasp like grains of sand. He shed the memories of arriving of Umbara, of fighting alongside General Skywalker when first landing on Umbara. And then he felt himself losing beyond that, the memory of tattooing his face with some of his brother, brothers he couldn't recall. The memory of being initiated into the Torrent Company, of painting the blue onto his armor, of meeting Rex and the General, and then it was before that...

His graduation ceased to exist and then his Batch Mate's numbers. The training stayed, all that training and some unaffiliated experience of a battlefield he had no memory of. And then all that was left was him. Dogma. He remembered himself! And then he unraveled. Dogma slipped away, letter by letter. Dogma... Dogm... Dog... Do... D... he was a trained soldier that was to lay his life down for the Republic—to commit no treason... He'd never commit treason, ever, in no way. He was CT-7819, graduating from training he had experienced for years in order to fight for the Republic.

7819 jerked out of the sensation of falling, his clenched stomach eased as he released unwarranted stress. A Kaminoan stood next to him, he knew her, Daa Edo.

"How do you feel?" Her voice was light, it made him feel good but his stomach turned at that good feeling as if it was wrong.

"I feel good Sir." 7819 said, relaxed.

"Do you mind telling me your name?"

"I do not have a name Sir. My numbers are 7819." He said them individually and distantly, his mind gave him the metaphor of burying someone he neither knew or was aware of.

Daa Edo unclasped the restraints holding him, he must've been going through a procedure... reconditioning, it was to help him with something he cared not to remember or dwell over. "You will be a fine soldier 7819."

7819 stepped up from the chair proudly. "I will not fail the Republic."


End file.
